


We All Hurt

by Anaredrina



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Blood and Injury, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Present day setting, Self-Harm, Trauma, Very graphic descriptions of Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:14:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27231049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anaredrina/pseuds/Anaredrina
Summary: Something's off with you and Carlos knows, so he comes to investigate.
Relationships: Carlos Cliveira & Reader, Carlos Oliveira/Reader, Carlos Oliveira/You
Kudos: 22





	We All Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> This gets quite graphic in terms of self harm. Just another friendly warning!

Everyone has bad days, right? Well, you have yours marked on the calendar. Every year on these same days you feel like utter shit. For your coworkers that's likely the end of September, because of the raccoon city outbreak. Luckily you were still a bit young to remember it in detail because you were a 90’s kid, but you still have your fair share of dates and memories you wish you didn't remember in general. Sometimes you felt like you weren’t a real member of your unit because you’re so much younger than them and didn’t share the memories of that event, barely having fit the age requirements to be involved in the combat aspect of the job; but that wasn’t your role.

You weren’t even a sworn in officer beforehand, but the whole unit was slowly but surely in desperate need of someone who can manage and handle the unavoidable IT aspects of their organization. Hence why you were allowed to work there from such a young age, and weren’t involved in combat. You're still just over half the age of most of your unit and Leon as well, but you were too old to be their daughter.

Today was one of those days you had for yourself, and you sent your 2 most trusted coworkers a text this morning briefly saying you're not coming in today, and that you'd be calling in sick. You told Leon that you downright felt like shit and that you're too depressed to move. He's not really your direct coworker or part of the BSAA, but he hangs around with you and your team almost all day in the office when he's not assigned to something. If Chris and co. were out on a mission, you’d stay behind in the office almost all alone usually, along with some others who were your subordinates, making sure to keep in contact with them. As a result of this Leon spent a lot more time with you at work, since you could always be found in the office.

You did text him throughout the day as he's usually free, or allowed to mess with his phone all day if he really wanted to unless he's on some kind of mission. His actual job description for when he is not on a mission is still an enigma to you. He was also pretty much expecting that text since he knows about the date, but you didn't ask him to come over and ditch work for you this time around. He's the only person you'd be honest with about those kinds of things, you suppose he's the most brotherly one of your colleagues. It was hard for all of them to get used to and shut off the sexual tension around you but for him it came first and easy. 

Of course it's not gone entirely, but he keeps a leash on himself. Leon isn't very much of a person who has the willpower to pursue that anyway these days, much less when he could get into so much trouble for it. He's definitely the closest to you though, he's your closest friend even outside of work. If he wasn't your coworker in some way maybe you two would have some sort of relationship. Nobody really called him a creep either, because nobody talks to Leon Kennedy like that and it was clear he had himself under control. 

Chris is older than Leon by a good 5 years so he was a bit colder and distant when it came to you, but still very protective. Chris would likely treat you the same way he comes after Leon if he's drunk and wallowing in self pity again; but less aggressive because of your age and the fact that he doesn't really want to be rude to women. He's still a bit awkward around you and doesn't really treat you like he'd treat Claire, his biological sister. You've heard little rumors here and there and have heard that he's gotten some flack for others noticing him staring at you and him being just 3 years shy of 50. Either way you didn't really care or have an interest. Your father was still older than them. 

Jill is extremely reserved and withdrawn but you do know she keeps her guard up like a stone wall, and you envied her skill for that. You didn't want to tell her and appear as whiny though, because she's probably had it worse. She still treated you like a daughter and was distant yet protective of you. She'd probably more than likely understand where you're coming from and wouldn't truthfully look down on you for having problems. 

Lastly, similar to Chris, Carlos is the only other man in your unit that doesn't downright treat you like family. While he's the same age as Leon, somewhere around 40, you've also heard similar rumors saying that he just thinks you're young and attractive but he’s not going to try and make a move on you. That, and nobody really wants to give Carlos trouble has netted him a trusted and clean reputation. But that didn't stop him from feeling a bit jealous of just how much of your attention Leon got from you and how much time you spent with him. 

All together you still trusted and held all of them dear like family and close friends, no matter in which way they regarded you and ignoring stupid sexual things you can't just flip off like a switch. It's like finding one of your professors attractive, but not engaging in it because it's seen as inappropriate. Only Leon and Carlos ever got you flustered like that, but the former has boiled down by now and you cringe at the thought in the present day. Carlos however? He could still make you blush and cause some hot daydreaming.

Hence why you didn't tell Carlos the whole truth, since he's also the only one who has a single shred of intuition left, even though that also means he's impulsive and doesn't think before acting a lot of the time. The others are just objective observers and almost too tactical for their own good.

So it is safe to say that text didn't sit too well with Carlos, he felt something was off. Usually if you are indeed sick you won't text anyone and will just stay in bed, you usually would also leave your front door unlocked because you knew someone from work was bound to just come barging in at some point, worried that you’ve kicked the bucket or something. Of course that’s over the top, but you can’t blame them for always assuming the worst, and sometimes you really needed the help.

Today he was quite worried and knew you’re not physically ill, but you knew he's not going to ask the whole BSAA unit if they knew anything and he knew Leon isn't one to share your secrets. Knowing he’s your butt buddy, he did ask him if he’s heard from you today to which he said yes, and that he’s been texting you throughout the day right up to a few minutes ago, but he refused to say more, saying that you wouldn't want that.

That just made Carlos more suspicious that it’s something to do with your odd secretive bond with Leon, he knew you both share things with each other and exclude the others. Nobody's noticed your annual, punctual absences yet and it's been a couple of years by now, since you started working there once you barely turned 20.

You never planned on sharing anything with anyone until the inevitable happened. Leon had the pleasure of peeling you off your kitchen floor drunk out of your mind and nearly passed out due to alcohol poisoning on this very day years ago. Since you were so new, he definitely initially barged in and came over because that was during the time you both had a weird crush on each other. That’s really what cemented your friendship, though.

Almost all day, you've been doing nothing but watching TV and drinking on the couch texting him, and you didn't even notice it was about time when you would have normally come home from work by now. You heard a knock on your door; and you had a decent buzz going but still knew that it's Carlos knocking. Is it weird that you can tell who is who by the way they knock on doors? Maybe. Either way you knew it was him and it bugged you that he didn't text you first and seemingly just showed up. 

Begrudgingly, you texted him. “Go home Carlos”. As soon as you sent it you heard his phone go off. He never mutes that stupid thing does he? He pounded on the door a bit more aggressively.

“Y/n, open up. C’mon.”  
You didn't want to verbally answer because you'd have to raise your voice. So you bit the bullet and just cracked the door open, but didn't lift the chain lock. Immediately he could tell you've been drinking, you smelled like liquor. It may be sweet smelling and candy-like, but he could definitely tell that you're drunk. You looked up at him through the crack in the door. “What do you want?” You grumbled. 

“What the hell is going on? Open the stupid door.”  
“None of your business.”  
“Well now it's part of my business because you worried me sick all day, now unlock the door or I'll do it for you.”

Carlos rarely had a short temper with you and while he could be stern at times if you were testing his patience, he never sounded angry or upset. There was always a hint of sincerity and worry behind it, just like right now. You let out a sigh. “Fine.”

You unhitched the chain lock on your door and scrambled to sit back down on your couch, with your show paused. You weren't even dressed, you didn't have pants on, just an oversized shirt that looked like it's either his or Leon's. Even though Leon isn't as beefy as Carlos and he’s lost weight since the 2017 incident, their clothing looked huge on you and you had a thing for nabbing unsuspecting people's clothing if it looked delightfully oversized. You've probably plundered half of Leon's T Shirts by now, and a couple odd sweatshirts. Carlos didn't give up his stuff so easily, but it's hard for him to resist or complain when he entertained the thought of catching you wearing it like right now, even though this is the first time his little wish had been granted.

You didn't know, but he knew that it's one of his you have on right now and he knew you had nothing else on underneath that but panties, and his face suddenly felt like it was on fire, especially his cheeks and some blood also managed to make its way south. Maybe throwing on some sweatpants before heading your way wasn't such a good idea on his part. 

Nobody from work has really seen you with rolled up or short sleeves that often aside from Leon. You always kept a light jacket on in summer and if you did have to cave in and wear shorts, you wore opaque tights. It’s not that you wanted to wear less clothing around him, but he found out about your secret so early on you figured it’s no use hiding it from him. It also left you with little options to do after work, if you wanted to not risk being seen by someone at work you'd either have to stay at home or hang out with Leon.

The others however, had no clue. They just thought you’re overly modest. Truth is, in your free time off work, you don’t bother hiding your skin, you don’t really care at all who stares and makes insensitive comments. If you were hanging out with Leon you'd just dress normally and if not, you'd just avoid coworkers like the plague since you worried it could jeopardize your job if they told anyone, or just make them think less of you. If anyone gave you a sour look when you were out with Leon, one look in the eye would usually solve this problem. He's definitely become more menacing with age.

So it shocked Carlos that you didn’t scramble to put on pants or a long sleeved shirt. He's been to your home before, but he's never seen you shut the roller shutters on all the windows and literally barricade the whole place up so no natural light gets in. You did that on purpose to just drown out the sense of time today. He set down a bag of what seemed to be groceries on your kitchen counter and kicked his tennis shoes off. Seems like he changed after work and grabbed a shower before coming here. Odd. Usually he doesn't give a flying fuck about that. That could explain why he's here a bit later than the time where you'd get home on a normal day. 

You were sort of embarrassed now, you did grab a shower this morning but never bothered to get dressed or even brush your hair and dry it properly. Carlos always smells like nice cologne even if he's worked up a decent sweat, but now it was definitely overwhelming to your nose that had smelled nothing but alcohol today. He was taking things out of the bags and shuffling around your kitchen which grabbed your attention. He's your friend, a close friend, so this wasn't anything weird or new but he was silent now. 

“Carlos what the fuck are you doing?” He closed the cabinet with a glass in his hand, and said that you should have a drink of something that isn't alcohol for once. He picked up your favorite tea and snacks, that's what was in the bag. That was a cute and thoughtful gesture, and you felt bad for giving him an attitude when he was just trying to be nice. He poured the tea into the cup and slid it across the marble countertop, while you leaned on the other side of the counter. He gave you an expectant look out from beneath his unchanging typical mop-fringe. You were nervous and paranoid he’d get too good of a look at your arms now, so you tried to turn them around to hide the worst of it.

“So will you tell me what's going on? I know it's not your period or cramps that's not why I brought that.” He chuckled a bit, trying to lighten up the mood. “If I knew it were that, I would have brought you the same stuff I'd bring for Jill.”   
“Wow, such a ladies’ man aren't you?”  
“I sure am if I do say so myself.”

You took a sip from the cup and sighed. He's the only one at work who doesn't completely baby you and become super protective aside from Leon. He's more of a drunken recluse himself and understands fully if you feel like shit and need a break. But Carlos wanted to get to the bottom of this and he doesn't really take no for an answer if he knows you're hiding something that's hurting you. 

“Do I really have to explain? Look at me. I'm a fucking mess.”  
“Hot mess.”  
“But you do kinda look like female Leon right now I'm not gonna lie. You nailed the miserable-drunk look.”  
“I'll take that as a compliment.”  
He gave you one of those saucy smiles, about to say something borderline inappropriate. “I know that shirt is mine though, and Leon usually actually puts on underwear and pants before going on a drunken escapade.”

Since you were alone, he said that knowing your first response to things like that would be to prove him wrong, and he thought you're too hammered to realize you'd do something that is extremely risque comparative to his impression of you in order to prove him wrong. 

“I have underwear on, dipshit. Wouldn't have answered the door otherwise.” Surprisingly you picked up on that attempt of his though. 

“So is it the same kinda thing?” He asked on a more serious note, referring to your mutual friend and his propensity to drink away his problems. You nodded. You appreciated that Carlos didn't use descriptive language at all or call it as it is, and very expertly avoided sounding like calling you out. He's a very empathic man. 

“Are you actually alright though?” You smiled nervously and rolled your eyes, withdrawing your arms from the countertop. “For now.”  
“How can I turn that into a yes?”  
“You're the psychic one here, not me.” By now his intentions dawned on you, and you didn't have anything against it. He'd never use your mood or mental state to do something to you, or persuade you, but he would gladly give you a hand in cheering you up in a not-entirely-platonic way. 

He grabbed your glass and took a sip from it. “Wanna unpause your show?” Carlos craned his head and made a gesture pointing at your couch. “Sure.” For being tipsy you could still walk entirely straight, which surprised him. He still beat you to the couch by jumping over the back of it, and you flipped the lights back off before sitting down, before he could actually get a good look at you with proper lighting. Of course he has to flex his little tricks like that while you took the boring route walking all the way around to sit down next to him.

Carlos expected you to move closer to him first, but he's probably just overestimating your lack of control when tipsy, and he didn’t know you were physically trying to hide something. If you had more to drink you would be all over your coworker, not caring that he could read those secrets on your skin like braille.

“Come on, don't be shy,” He teased as he wrapped one of his relatively gigantic arms around you, pulling you in closer effortlessly. “You really look like you need more than a hug.” 

Admittedly you were already nervous and blushing but you tried to not let your neediness and paranoia take hold of you. For now you felt your secret was also safe in the shroud of darkness inside your home. If he turned on the lights, you’d definitely be in trouble.

“Do you wanna talk about it by chance? Bottling it up is no good. Look at Leon. No offense to him but…”  
“But?” You looked up and gave him a devilish smirk. Leon is your friend, but everyone knows he’s a broken man. 

“He’s been a fucking trainwreck since I met him and it keeps getting worse. And I met him much later than you. I figured he’s ought to be kinda screwed up if he saw that little welcome party thing in the police station on his first day...” 

You had to resist the urge to comment that you knew Leon’s account of that night in depth, Jill hasn’t said a word about it but you knew Carlos was with Jill, and Carlos told you his side of the story, but trying to leave out parts that Jill may not want him talking about.

You suspected that Leon’s experience was perhaps a lot worse than theirs, on top of him being a rookie cop whereas Carlos already has had military training from a younger age, and has been exposed to violence and warfare before, and Jill was with S.T.A.R.S. 

You were one of the few people aside from nosy government interrogators that Leon trusted with the full details, rooted in the fact that you’re the only one he could relate to for certain reasons even though this happened when you were a kid. He only told you once he found your secret too.

“So will you tell me? You don’t have to. But I don’t want to see something eat you up alive. Enough of us are screwed up as it is.” He took your hand while addressing you, and gave you an earnest look that you could still make out despite the dim light from the TV being the only source of light in the room.

“It doesn’t really matter or compare to the shit you guys have seen. You’ve been to hell and back and I’m not going to sit here and whine about something so trivial.”  
“Y/n this isn’t a competition. And it’s not trivial if you’re doing this to yourself.”  
You worried if he meant the drinking or perhaps if he caught a glimpse at your arms and legs, so you pondered your next move carefully, and decided to just be vague.  
“It’s just some stupid crap from when I was little.” 

Carlos let out a sigh and let his head hang down. “You’ve gotta let that shit go at some point, you know. It’ll ruin you. You’re too young for this.”

It sounded odd coming from him, because he must have been the most emotionally intact of your coworkers by far and has the least firsthand experience. 

He only joined the BSAA in late 2017, 19 years after he met Jill in 1998. And in the time in between he wasn’t subjected to nearly as much bullshit or zombies, if anything of that nature at all. He was vague about his whereabouts, but you figured he was serving in the US military which was like a vacation compared to doing tasks for the BSAA most of the time. That doesn't detract from the fact that he still survived raccoon city though. Either way his words really hit you hard, and you knew he was right to an extent but you couldn't drown out the intrusive memories attached to the things you tried to elude to, but not fully explain. 

“Age doesn't matter, shit still happens, fate is a cruel mistress or whatever the fuck they say,” you hissed, before dashing off into your bathroom, without Carlos being able to stop you or even just suspect what you're doing. It was unfair. But so was your entire life, you thought. Carlos didn't deserve to have it taken out on him, and neither did you deserve to have to take it out on yourself but that's what your default reaction was; harm yourself and don't involve others. Hide it so that others won't know. 

You knew that succumbing to this shitty old habit will hurt Carlos every bit it hurts you, and maybe you were being selfish right now but you felt like you were about to burst and weren't even thinking straight.

First Carlos thought you may be sick from the drinking, so he carefully tip-toed to the bathroom door you just locked behind you. Silence. You weren't leaned over the sink or toilet throwing up. He did hear you rustling in the cupboards, you were digging up those razor blades you kept in a certain drawer even though you told yourself you're done with this. It was just a comfort, knowing they're there for the time being. And for years, you didn't touch them. 

You scanned the bathroom for something to wear to cover this up, and found your bathrobe hanging on the hook. That'll do. You flipped down the cover on the toilet and sat down. Carlos thought that was weird, hearing the sound of that not followed by any flushing or sink turning on. He'd wait a few moments before asking what you're doing in there. In silence you sat there, holding the blade in your hands, and it stuck to your sweaty skin due to how nervous and anxious you were. Should you really do it? It’s been years. You’re an adult now, you shouldn’t be doing this. There’s someone in your home who very much cares about you, and you’re thinking about going back to an age old destructive habit.

And before you knew it, said person was knocking on the door. “Y/n? What are you doing in there?” You could tell he sounded concerned, and felt increasingly guilty for wanting to go through with this. It could potentially scare him off and squander any chances you would have had, ever. You decided to not even bother answering, nor lie.

“Y/n, open up. For the second time today. You’re worrying me fucking sick.” Right now you suspected you’ve screwed too much of this up already, he’s probably had enough of your bullshit. So you held the blade to your skin, trembling in anticipation of that bittersweet feeling, and dragged it across your thigh. A very long, hard swipe. It was hard to gauge just how much pressure to apply, it’s been so long and you could easily go way too far. Using something as sharp as this that you sometimes can’t even feel until you’re done, can be dangerous with a heavy or inexperienced hand. It was like some morbid type of surgery, but rearranging and removing emotions instead of organs.

The familiar pain came back, and while it was indeed severe and comparable to a knife injury your teammates may sustain on the field, you knew it would all be worth it soon and it would fade out into numbness. And it was intentional.The only thing you’d feel is the warm crimson fluid dripping down your skin and drying. So you did it again. And again. And again. Four times, four large cuts across your thigh.

You blissfully ignored him when he said that he has no other choice but to unlock the door for you, then. Carlos isn’t very crafty or deft with his hands, of course he wouldn’t pick the lock. He just kicked it open, causing you to shriek. You were completely immersed in what you were doing, the momentary pain and your focus was drowning out any distracting thoughts and feelings and sensory input, fully controlling what you feel emotionally and physically, temporarily placing your stress on hold. 

When you saw him, you froze and immediately let the blade fall to the ground. It was so bloody, that it caused blood to spatter on your bathroom floor on impact, and it stuck to the floor in a pool of blood that was still on it, now transferring to the ground.

“What the fuck, y/n?” He didn’t raise his voice at all, but his voice was hoarse and it cracked when he saw the blood dripping down your thigh and leg, onto the floor. It was quite a lot, but nothing he can’t stomach on a physical level. Emotionally? He was in pieces. You were still riding out that numb high from the cutting, and weren’t immediately hit by the crashing waves of guilt for what you’ve just inflicted on him as well.

You gave him a look, but with empty, calm eyes. Too empty, too calm. He has no experience with this, and didn’t want to jump to any conclusions based on your facial expression.

“Y/n, please stop.” he begged. He hadn’t seen that the blade fell to the ground, it just looked like another pool of blood to him. When you gave no response he dropped to his knees, clutching your leg by your calf. 

“Please don’t do that anymore.” As he lowered himself onto the ground, he caught the reflection of the metal blade in his eye, in a little puddle of blood. He picked it up, not caring if he’d cut his own fingers with it. He knew what it was, he knew how to pick it up without cutting himself, but he didn’t care. He’d make a fist around it if he had to if that meant preventing you from doing more damage. 

But you just gave him that blank stare and let him take it. He examined it, and looked around the floor and the mess, and felt a drop of blood meet his hand that was clutching your leg. Tears shot into his eyes and blinded his vision, but he stood up to place the blade out of your reach on your sink, a faint sting on his palm revealed that he’d also cut himself on the blade, but he didn’t care. He didn’t even consider the fact that ‘sharing blood’ can be dangerous.

Carlos didn’t even bother to wash both his blood and yours off his hand before sitting down right in front of you, looking up at you. He gave you a desperate look, and took your leg in his hand yet again, gently turning it around to actually get a look at the damage you’ve done. He couldn’t bear looking at it a few moments ago, but he was worried that you’d need a lot more than just a damp washcloth to take care of the damage when he saw the blood running down your thighs over your legs, even forming a small pool by your feet. He knew better than to ask ‘why’, or interject himself into this or blame you. He also knew he definitely shouldn’t ask if you’re okay, you’re not. 

“Jesus Christ, y/n,” he exclaimed in shock when he saw the damage you managed to do with that tiny thing. He scrambled to his feet and almost slipped with the blood all over the floor and now on his pants, running to the kitchen to where you kept your first aid supplies, and he also brought a cup of water and a damp cloth. He washed his hands in the kitchen, and put a bandaid over the cut on his palm afterward. You were his priority now, but he doesn’t want his own blood getting everywhere.

He found you with your legs pulled up to your body, arms wrapped around them, now also covered in blood from brushing over the wound area, and his shirt you were wearing was also now stained with it. For some reason that also hit him a lot harder than if that were just one of Leon’s.

You really didn’t care about the mess, but that wave of numbness caused by setting your body’s adrenaline and endorphins off on purpose was beginning to wear off slowly, and you were starting to feel a bit of shame. 

If you cut more, or deeper it’d last longer, you scolded yourself in your thoughts. But it was coming back to you slowly. Hence why your head was atop your knees, but not looking at the door and facing the other way instead. You heard him approach but didn’t turn your head.

“Let me take care of it at the very least, please?” You felt a warm hand tug at your thigh, closer to your knee, trying to prompt you to let him see. Reluctantly, you let him have access to it. You really didn’t care at this point how much you screwed up. You’re more than capable of handling this by yourself, something that became clear to Carlos as he examined the wounds and saw there was much more where that came from, before pressing the damp cloth to your skin. He offered you the cup of water, but you declined. 

“Alcohol thins your blood, you should have more water. Please?”  
“Fine.” You took a sip of water, but a very generous one though. 

He wanted to see more, but it already made him sad enough to see the damage you just did, and not the other years worth of it scattered on both of your thighs, not sparing much space for intact skin. He reached out to run a hand over your back trying to comfort you. “I’m so sorry, y/n. I’m sorry if I pushed you.” You let him keep his hand there, but he kept looking at you, trying to figure out something from your body language, that was when he saw your arms. They were faded just as much as your thighs, but not as deep. 

Carlos grimaced a bit, but tried to hold back the tears this time. Frankly you were surprised that he didn't just tell you that you're a stubborn idiot and storm off. It genuinely shocked you that he cared and had the patience for this, let alone would cry. Leon wouldn't cry.

It's not like your other close friend Leon doesn't care, but he feels more like he's with you in the same boat as opposed to Carlos who's just a helpless onlooker in this case. Leon would always try to stop you, and he has stopped you without failure each time. But he wasn't here to stop you now.

“I won’t make you talk about it or tell me anything, but I’m here, alright?”  
You turned your head to face him again, but couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You just stared off into space again. He noticed your face was streaked with tears and blood, presumably from trying to wipe the tears off your face with your hands, and it didn't escape you that he was looking.

“Don’t look at me.”  
“Sorry.” He wanted to add that he doesn’t think you’re any less pretty like this, but he felt now isn’t the time. Instead, he just silently stayed by your side with his hand on your back and you avoided looking at him, but you were going to stare a hole into the wall at this point, tears still streaming out of your eyes as you forced them open. Carlos kept checking your injuries, he wanted to make sure to not take off the cloth too early, or bandage it up when there was still too much bleeding.

Once the bleeding slowed down enough to start clotting and closing the wounds, he cleaned up the rest of you with some warm water and wound wash, using paper towels to go over your legs and your arms. You complied and didn’t say a word, even after he bandaged up your thigh. You knew that he’s trained in first aid, proficiently at that, so you didn’t mind. But you would have been able to make do with what you usually did yourself. 

As he got up, he felt that annoying sensation of his feet and legs being asleep, but pushed it beside and offered you a hand to get up from where you were sitting. Once you were back on your feet, he gently pulled you into a tight embrace. His whole body trembled when he spoke.  
“I’m really sorry, y/n.”  
“It’s my fault,” you muttered, pressed against him.  
“No, no it’s not your fault at all.”  
“You do understand that I can’t leave you alone now right?”  
He felt you nod against his chest. “And I don’t want to, either way.”

In one quick motion, he picked you up and you wrapped your arms tighter around him. “Where are you taking me?” He smiled and said, “You should change out of that and put it in the wash.” Carlos knew where your bedroom was, so he brought you there, and sat you down on your bed.

He stripped himself of his t-shirt that he had on and handed it to you. “Since you seem to like em.” The startled look on your face made the dried up tears and little bits of blood on your face feel dry and crackly as your expression changed, but Carlos just continued giving you a warm smile. You hesitated at first; but asked him why he did that. 

“You're already wearing one of mine.”  
“That wasn't on purpose.”  
He winked at you. He knew that maybe you wouldn't have known when you put it on, but he suspected that you did like him back based on how you've been acting in the past months. “Just put it on. I'll turn around.” 

You made sure that Carlos wasn't trying to pull any cheeky tricks on you with a mirror perhaps, but you obliged and slid his first shirt off your body, the one with the blood stains. You slid the second shirt on that he just took off for you and it was still warm, and smelled just like him. “Done,” you said. 

“I put it on like an hour ago, don't worry.”   
Next thing you know, he took his pants off. “I'll put this stuff in the wash, okay?” You couldn't really interject or stop him and you knew he knew where your washing machine was. So here he was, just in boxers. 

He joined you back on your bed, both sitting at the edge. Right now you couldn't help but feel like a big, stupid baby. You wanted back into his arms, but wouldn't tell him or just help yourself. 

“Are you… Not mad?” You asked curiously.   
“No, why should I be? If anything I'm mad at myself.”  
“I hurt you.”  
“We all hurt, babygirl. And that's alright.”

His comment made you blush. He picked you up and put you down closer to the headboard and pulled the blanket over you, and then got underneath the covers himself, pulling you in with one arm. He kept a sure grip on you, spooning you, until he himself fell asleep maybe 20 minutes after you did.

On the other side of town, Leon got worried about you since you suddenly weren't responding to his texts anymore within minutes or even seconds. You were very predictable. Immediately he figured he should drive out there and see what's going on. Once he got there, he dashed to your front door and found it unlocked, and everything was dark. When he flipped the light switch on he first and foremost saw the blood in the kitchen sink. “Shit.”

The next place he checked was the bathroom, and there was more blood in there. There was so much of it, you must have really felt horrible. “Please no…” He mumbled to himself. But he continued looking for you. Fearing what he may see in the bedroom, he opened the door very slowly, just a crack to stick his head inside. You left the lights on, but both you and Carlos were asleep and didn't notice Leon. 

Leon immediately smiled, and put together what must have happened. That was unmistakably Carlos’ figure in your bed holding on to you. He knew you're in safe hands, or arms, and sighed with relief. If this happened earlier he'd probably be jealous, but years have passed since he felt that way, thankfully. You also entrusted Leon with the fact that you did have feelings for Carlos so he put two and two together. Only a few things can make him feel warm and fuzzy, and seeing you finally with him made him happy for both of you. 

To his surprise, Carlos woke up and saw Leon in the door making a shushing gesture and pointing at you. He was just checking in on you for a good reason, he figured. Silently he nodded at Leon and exchanged a smile, looking at you briefly. Leon pointed at the light switch, and again Carlos nodded. Now that it was dark, he easily fell back asleep. He also didn't want to let you go though, or disturb you. 

Leon went ahead and cleaned up your bathroom and kitchen sink for you and left a note on the counter before leaving, apologizing for not being there and thanking Carlos for coming earlier and taking care of you, hoping that you feel better soon. Truly old fashioned to not just text both of you, but that's something you found endearing about him, and now Carlos could maybe see where you're coming from in regards to Leon, and would cut back on the jealousy a little. 


End file.
